Shrunken Shenanigans
by Kinsey Adelaide
Summary: Dick Grayson has an adult mind in a toddler's body. Hijinks and trolling ensue. Family fluff. A "spin off" from A Bunch of Ridiculousness. Chapters 1 and 2 originally posted there, but 3 is all new!
1. Chapter 1

**I see so many Dick de-aged fics that I decided I wanted to do one, too. Because if everyone jumped off a bridge… I tried to do a little something different, though.**

**This is going to be told from Dick's POV.**

**This chapter was originally posted in "A Bunch of Ridiculousness." Thank you to firstar28 for the title!  
**

* * *

It was just our luck. What initially was going to be a Thursday-night Family Movie Night (and we were going to watch _Brave_ – how sweet is that!) instead was turned into a Thursday-night Chase-an-Alien night. All because the Justice League had been tracking an alien for days, but now said alien had turned up in Gotham. Naturally, Bruce told the League (in no uncertain terms) that we would handle it. So instead of watching a movie and eating delicious buttery popcorn, Bruce, Jason, Tim, Damian, and I were all out on the prowl for an alien.

"I've got my sights on him," Red Hood announced. "He's in the northwest corner of the warehouse."

"Good," Batman gruffly replied. "Nightwing, you go in with Red Hood. Take it by the numbers."

"You got it, boss!" With any luck, we'd wrap this up lickety-split and be home in time to watch our film.

As I swooped down to Jason's side, I heard Bruce giving orders to Robin and Red Robin. Once everyone was in position, we sprang.

A quick battle ensued. The alien was no match for all of us, and we had him (her?) subdued and in a net within five minutes. Batman called the JLA, and we stood around, idly watching the alien while we waited for Superman. And that was when it happened.

I was standing there, minding my own business, when a strange warmth enveloped me. I heard Tim shout, and then everything went black.

* * *

I woke up only a minute later to find everyone staring at me. From a long ways away. Had I fallen down?

I looked down and was surprised to see my Nightwing costume pooled around me. Even my boxer briefs were hanging off my body. I gasped and held out my arm for inspection. It was so small! The alien had shrunk me!

"Ahhh, I'm widdle!" I shouted, which gave me pause. Did I just say "widdle?" What twenty-something does _that_?

Robin bent down closer to me and gave me the once-over. He gingerly poked my arm. I gave him a look, and he poked me again, harder.

I tried to say "Robin! Stop it! That hurts," but I quickly discovered that my mouth was not obeying my brain.

"Wobin! Stowpit! Da hoots!" _Was that even English_?

"Oh God," Jason muttered. "Just what we need around the cave – a baby." Then, without any prompting, he reached down and picked me up. My clothes slid off my body; Tim kindly gathered them up. Jason, however, seemed not to mind that he was holding a naked baby.

"This better be temporary, though," he added, as I attempted to snuggle against him. _Look, if I was the size of a toddler, I might as well use it to my advantage, right?_

"We'll ask Superman when he arrives," Batman replied, completely calm. And why shouldn't he have been. Crazy crap like this happens to us _all the time_.

"You rang?" said the voice of the one and only Big Blue Boy Scout.

"Suwperman!" I shouted, squirming in Jason's grasp. "Suwperman!"

Clark's eyes widened as he saw me. "Oh my gosh."

"Ahh, shit!" Red Hood suddenly shouted, holding me away from his body and gesturing angrily at his costume. "The kid pissed on me."

_Oops. Well, I had been pretty excited to see Superman. Apparently, in my small state, I not only had decreased control over my mouth but also my bladder._

Bruce just sighed. "Get this creature out of here." He tossed the net containing the alien at Clark. "And ask him how to fix that." He gestured at me.

"Right. Will do."

It required a bit of scrambling to get us all back to the cave. Since I was in no condition to drive my motorcycle, Bruce told Damian to drive it. Jason and Tim handled their own bikes. Meanwhile, my Nightwing costume was piled on the Batmobile's passenger seat, I was placed on top, and then I was strapped in with more harnesses than I knew the car possessed.

"Be good," Bruce admonished before closing my door and rapidly dashing around the front of the car to the driver's side. He was quick – I didn't have time to push any buttons.

On the way home, Bruce video called Alfred.

"Alfred, we have a situation."

"Oh dear. Is anyone injured Master Bruce?"

"Not as such. But Dick is…." Bruce paused, unsure of what to say.

So I decided to help him out. Leaning over as far the harnesses would let me, I peered at Alfred. "Hi, Alfwed!" I gave him a little wave.

Alfred's eyed widened ever-so-slightly. "Is that Master Dick?"

"I'm afraid so. The alien de-aged him. Clark is talking to the alien now."

"I see sir. Any special preparations?"

"Well, Tim's picking up some diapers on the way home. And a sleeper. We'll go from there."

"Diapers, sir?" Alfred paled a little.

"I'm afraid so. He urinated on Jason in his excitement over seeing Clark."

Alfred chuckled. "Indeed, sir." And the screen went blank.

"Bye, bye." I waved at the screen. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the barest ghost of a smile creep across Bruce's face. He reached over and ruffled my hair. "What am I going to do with you, chum?" he asked, amusement in his voice.

Without even thinking, I said the most toddler-esque thing I could think of. "Play!" I exclaimed, clapping my hands in delight.

Bruce gave a small smile. "I think I can do that."

Delightedly, I clapped my hands and shouted "play!" several more times as the Batmobile moved ever-closer to home. Each time Bruce momentarily smiled.

_He likes me as a baby._

I suddenly realized I had just been given a great gift. My body had been de-aged, but my mind had not. I remembered everything - I could even still read (discovered courtesy of the warning label on one of my many harnesses). As annoying at it would be to have my adult mind trapped in a toddler's body (which I was quickly learning wasn't capable of anything), I had a great opportunity. Bruce was already getting a kick out of having me as a baby; it would be great to make him happy.

And I could have a lot of fun in the process.

* * *

The second Bruce put me down, I took off running. _Little kids like running around naked, right?_ Despite the chill in the cave, I realized that I rather liked running around naked. It was very freeing.

"Ahhhhhh," I shouted happily as I tore across the cave floor, flailing my arms wildly.

"Dick. Dickie." Bruce paused, trying to decide what name he liked better. "Dickie, be careful!"

I just laughed. _This is fun_. I was tempted to repeat what Bruce had said, but "be careful" was too hard to say. Instead I settled on random shouts of joy. Much better.

"Well he seems healthy, sir," Alfred commented as I raced past him, my bare little feet slapping the ground.

Bruce nodded, removing the cowl. "He certainly does. He was just de-aged, although he seems to have memories of us, which is a blessing. I can't imagine dealing with a terrified two-year-old boy."

"Indeed, sir."

_So Bruce has decided I'm two? Well, that's fine. He doesn't seem to realize my brain is okay, which is good_. It would be much more fun for Bruce to think I was a toddler in mind as well as body.

I had gotten tired of running and was crawling around underneath the Batcomputer when Tim and Damian came home. Naturally, they were arguing.

"Drake, I can't believe you got those atrocious diapers."

"What? They were on sale!"

"They have butterflies on them," Damian sneered.

"Like Dick's going to care," Tim scoffed. "He's a little kid. He won't know."

Damian crossed his arms. _Apparently Little D is into strict gender binaries_, I thought.

"At least you didn't purchase that heinous plaid sleeper," Damian added.

"Give me a break! I didn't realize they had a Batman one until you pointed it out to me."

Bruce emerged from the showers. "You got Dick a Batman sleeper?" He sounded pleased.

"Yes, Father, we did." Damian pulled the sleeper out of the bag with a flourish.

Bruce walked over and grabbed it. He quickly inspected it. "Looks good." He glanced around. "Dickie? Dickie, where are you?"

"He's currently under the computer, sir." _Of course, Alfred had been watching my every move_.

"Dickie, come here," Bruce practically cooed. Damian and Tim looked at each other in shock. "Time to put your pjs on."

I peeked out from under the computer. I was about to toddle over when I remembered something – I was two!

"No," I said, diving back under the computer.

Bruce sighed. "Dickie, come on. Please?"

"No."

"Dickie."

"No."

Suddenly, a loud roar erupted in my ear.

"Ahhhh," I screamed, diving out from underneath the desk and running over to Bruce in fright. I ran up to his leg and wrapped my arms around it, quivering.

"Jason," Bruce said annoyed, as my brother appeared from behind the computer.

"What? You wanted him out, he's out."

"Not like that, though," Bruce groused, picking me up. "It's okay, Dickie," he soothed.

I whimpered and cuddled against his chest. Bruce patted my head and continued murmuring comforting words to me as he carried me upstairs.

We entered my suite, and I discovered that Alfred had drawn a bath. Bruce tested the water temperature, then dropped me in. He gave me a quick scrub (I was a little dirty from the cave), then laid me down on my bathroom counter and put my diaper on. He then carried me out to my bed, on which lay my new Batman sleeper. I pointed at it. "Fo me?"

"Yes, Dickie, that's for you. You can be Batman."

Bruce put me in the footed sleeper and zipped me up. I started to jump on my bed (_which was awesome!_), shouting happily, while he just stood at the end of my bed and regarded me fondly.

"Me Batman!" I shouted, taking a leap and landing face-first in my pillows. Giggling, I picked myself up and kept jumping. I tried to do some acrobatics, but my body wasn't cooperating. I would have to work on that.

"Me Batman," I shouted again.

"That's right," Bruce replied. "You'll be a great Batman when you're big, Dickie."

I paused in my jumping to look at Bruce. I smiled at him. "Me," I pointed at myself, "be like daddy." And I pointed at him.

Bruce smiled – for real, actually smiled. "That's right; you'll be like daddy."

* * *

A few minutes later, we headed downstairs because Alfred had informed us that Clark had arrived.

He was standing in the foyer in regular clothes, a large box at his feet.

I skidded across the smooth floor. "Cwark!"

"Hello there." He smiled at me, although he wasn't sure how to react beyond that.

"What's in the box?" Bruce asked, gesturing.

"Ahh, yes. Well, I zipped over to Roy's house to bring you some of Lian's hand-me-downs. I figured Dick wouldn't mind since he's just a baby."

Bruce frowned and opened the box. I peered inside along with him. Sure, they were girl's clothes, but I remembered Lian having some good times in them. I would be happy to wear her stuff.

Bruce glanced at the clothes, while I happily crawled inside the box and began to rifle through them.

"I'm guessing it will be a while."

Clark nodded. "The alien said it will probably be at least one month – maybe four."

_Four months as a two-year-old!?_

"I see. Anything we can do?"

"Probably not. It will wear off, but it just takes time."

"Four months," Bruce breathed.

I pulled myself up and grinned at Clark. "Four!" I announced, holding my hand up.

"No, Dickie, that's five," Bruce said.

"Five!" I waved my hand at Clark.

"Now this is four." Bruce reached over and gently bent my thumb down. "That's four."

"Four!" I proudly showed my four fingers to Clark.

"So how old do you think he is?" Clark asked, looking at Bruce.

"About two."

"Two!" I held two fingers up to Clark.

"Very good, Dickie," Bruce praised, apparently impressed that I had put two fingers up all by myself.

I beamed. "Imma goo boy."

"Yes, you are." Bruce reached down and picked me up, pulling me out of the box of clothes. "And I think it's time for you to go to bed."

"Awww." I pouted a little, but, truth be told, I was actually a bit tired.

"Alright then, I'll be going," Clark announced. "Let me know if you need any help."

"Will do. And thanks for the clothes."

Bruce carried me upstairs. But instead of taking me into my own bathroom, he took me into his bathroom. A brand-new child-sized Batman toothbrush was waiting for me.

Although I imagine two-year-olds are not supposed to enjoy having their teeth brushed, I didn't have the heart to give Bruce trouble. So I sat on the bathroom counter and let Bruce brush my teeth.

When he was done, Bruce picked me and carried me to my bed. Only he didn't take me to my own room, but rather down the hall to the nursery. Once there, he laid me down in the crib and then pulled the bar up.

"Good night, Dickie."

"Nigh, night."

After Bruce left, I tried to get out of the crib. Unfortunately, my acrobatics weren't exactly up to speed. Eventually, I gave up, laid down, and went to sleep.

But a couple of hours later I woke up. I couldn't sleep in that crib – the mattress was hard as a rock! I attempted to get out on my own, but still couldn't make it happen. So I gave up and started shouting, hoping someone would come rescue me.

The door opened after only a few short minutes. I was expecting Bruce, but it was Damian who materialized before me.

"Grayson, what is going on in here?"

I cocked my head at him. Surely, a two-year-old wouldn't respond to his last name.

Damian sighed at my confusion. "Why all this noise?"

"Bed hoots," I whimpered.

"Tt."

"It's ouchy," I clarified.

Damian leaned over and punched the crib mattress. It didn't move.

"You are correct. That mattress is like a wooden board."

Glad to have Damian on my side, I held up my arms. "Up. Up."

With a sigh, Damian lowered the crib rail and lifted me out. "Now where are you going to sleep?"

"Wif you?" I gave Damian my patented puppy-dog eyes.

"Tt." But he took me into his room and laid me down on his bed, then climbed in beside me.

I immediately scooted closer to him. "Nigh night, Dami."

"Good night."

All was quiet for a minute or two, then Damian added, "If you urinate in my bed, Grayson, I will kill you."

_Ahh, now there was the Damian I know and love_.


	2. Chapter 2

**This was also initially posted in "A Bunch of Ridiculousness."  
**

* * *

I awoke the next morning, snuggled next to Damian, to the sound of frantic voices and rapid movement. _What the heck?_

All of a sudden Damian's door burst open, and a rather haggard-looking Bruce appeared in the doorway. I raised my head from Damian's chest and smiled at him.

"Daddy!" I shouted (right in Damian's ear), sticking my arms up in the near-universal "pick-me-up" gesture.

"Grayson, quiet down," Damian snarled, giving me the evil eye with only one half-opened eye.

I ignored him. "Daddy!" I said again, holding up my arms.

Upon seeing me in Damian's bed, Bruce had calmed down considerably and darted out into the hallway to shout for Alfred. He finally popped back inside, and scooped me up.

"Why are you in here, Dickie?" he asked gently. "I was worried about you when you weren't in your bed." _So that explains the shouting and banging._

"My bed ouchy," I explained. Naturally, Bruce did not comprehend.

"Damian, why is he in here?"

Very unwillingly (it was pretty early in the morning for him), Damian opened his eyes and faced Bruce. "Father, the crib mattress is as hard as a piece of wood. Grayson might as well sleep on the floor. He was making a lot of noise last night, so I brought him in here to sleep."

"Is that true, Dickie? Your bed is not soft?"

I nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh. My bed ouchy but Dami bed soft."

Bruce ruffled my hair. "Well, we'll have to fix that, little chum. And thank you, Damian, for letting Dick sleep with you."

"You're welcome, Father."

"Dami nice!" I said with delight, clapping my hands.

Bruce raised an eyebrow and looked at me as though I had taken leave of my sense (which, as far as he knew, I had). _I guess "nice" isn't exactly how most people would describe Damian_.

"May I please return to sleep, Father?" Damian grumbled.

"Sure, Damian." Damian rolled over, his back to us. Bruce smiled down at me. "Let's get some breakfast."

Minutes later I had on a clean diaper and was firmly ensconced in the Wayne family high-chair, a massive wooden contraption that looked like it could hold three toddlers. Consequently, Bruce had piled pillows all around me in an effort to prevent me from falling out. Well, and to make the chair more comfortable. _What can I say? Bruce knew how to spoil a baby_.

As Alfred put the finishing touches on whatever was breakfast, Bruce handed me a spoon, which I promptly began to bang on the high-chair tray. Pleased with the noise I was making, I started to shout along. "La la la la la la," I repeated constantly.

Jason, who despite the early hour was already at the kitchen table drinking coffee, lowered his newspaper and glared.

"Can you shut up?"

"Jason!" Bruce gasped, shocked he would say "shut up" to a toddler. "He's singing!"

"Well he sucks and should shut it. Some of us are trying to enjoy the paper."

"Jason, really. He's just a little boy. Let him play."

"Pway, pway!" I shouted, banging my spoon.

Jason groaned, but Bruce beamed at me. "That's right, play a song for daddy."

I did my best to bang out a passable tune for Bruce on the high chair. Jason, meanwhile, pretended to barf. Whether it was over my toddler-esque musical abilities or Bruce's doting, I couldn't be sure.

Moments later, Alfred set a huge bowl of oatmeal in front of me. He had put craisins in it, just as I liked. Oh and tons of cinnamon and sugar. Yummy.

Bruce, on the other hand, had a bowl of plain, very-bland-looking oatmeal. _Bummer_. He made a face at his bowl when Alfred wasn't looking.

A minute later, when Jason got up to get some food and Alfred's back was turned, Bruce grabbed my bowl and dumped some of my food into his bowl.

"It's our secret," he whispered. I giggled.

I ate a few more bites of oatmeal (I had to eat slowly because my mouth was really small now!). But when Jason returned to the table, I saw that he had a bowl of Lucky Charms. Mmmmmm. That oatmeal wasn't looking so good anymore. Besides – those were my Lucky Charms. I was the one who had asked Alfred to buy them!

"Wha dat?" I asked, pointing a fat baby finger towards Jason.

"Food," Jason replied.

Bruce frowned slightly. "Those are Lucky Charms, Dickie."

"Wucky Chams?"

"That's right," Bruce encouraged even though I had totally butchered the pronunciation.

"Wan dat!" I wiggled my finger at Jason's cereal.

"Okay," Bruce smiled, no doubt imaging he could then eat my oatmeal. "Alfred, Dick wants some Lucky Charms."

"My apologies, sir, but Master Jason has eaten the last of them."

My mouth dropped open. Jason had eaten MY cereal?

Recovering from my shock, I looked at Bruce. "Daddy, wan dat."

"Sorry, chum, they're all gone."

"All gone?" my face started to contort. I was on the verge of crying. "But I wan dat," I wailed.

"Jason," Bruce hissed, "how could you eat all of Dick's cereal?"

"What? How was I supposed to know he'd want it?"

"It's his cereal."

"He's two! He didn't even know what Lucky Charms were until you told him!"

"Well, you shouldn't have been eating them in front of him."

"Well, excuse me for wanting breakfast."

"Wannnn datttttt," I wailed, beginning to cry. Bruce looked pityingly at me, sighed, grit his teeth, and turned back to Jason.

"Jason, go to the grocery and get more Lucky Charms."

"Me! Why can't you go?"

"Someone has to stay here with Dick."

"Why can't I?"

Bruce bat-glared at Jason as he simultaneously picked me up and snuggled me in an effort to quiet my crying. I quieted down and burrowed deeper into his chest.

"Fine," Jason sighed. "But I'm taking whatever car I want."

"Not the -."

"Whatever car I want."

"Fine."

"And I need some money. Cereal isn't free, ya know."

Holding me on his hip with one hand, Bruce pulled his wallet out of his pocket (strangely enough, he always has his wallet on him, even in his own house), and fished a fifty out.

"Here, it's the smallest I have."

"Don't expect any change, old man," Jason hooted, pocketing the bill.

"You better not buy fifty-dollars-worth of Lucky Charms," Bruce admonished.

"Pfff. Only Dick would be crazy enough to buy fifty-dollars-worth of cereal."

"No cigarettes," Bruce called after Jason.

"Okay!"

A moment's pause. "And no beer either!"

"I can't hear you," Jason yelled back, followed by a vigorous slam of the garage door.

* * *

Although I had to wait an hour for my cereal, it was worth it. Bruce let me sit in his lap the entire time we waited, which was infinitely more comfortable than the high chair. Plus, it meant I could surreptitiously read the newspaper since Bruce had it spread out in front of him.

After two bowls of Lucky Charms, Damian and Tim had finally emerged from their beds.

They were both eating breakfast when I finally finished my cereal and was released from Bruce's lap.

I ran right up to Damian and started tugging on his pant leg. "Dami, pway wif me!" I pleaded.

Dami looked down at me (which was weird since it's usually the other way around). "Tt. I do not play."

I made a face. "Pway!" I insisted.

"Tt."

I stepped back, put my hands on my hips and glared at him. "Tt," I imitated, hissing a bit more than Damian usually did. _This was fun!_

"Tt. Tt. Tt. Tt." I repeated over and over again, still glaring at Damian.

Tim groaned. "Damian, you have to go play with him now."

"You do not order me around, Drake."

Tim ignored Damian's comment. "Consider it reparations for teaching him to say 'tt.'"

_Oooh, I liked that idea_. I 'tt'-ed with a bit more force. I was definitely grating on Tim's nerves.

"Bruce, make Damian take Dick outside. His hissing is driving me nuts."

Bruce, who had either been charmed by my hissing or miraculously able to ignore it, liked that idea. He leaned down and smiled at me. "Dickie, do you want to play outside?"

"Yeaaaaa," I crowed.

"Let's go!" Bruce picked me up. "Damian, you're coming." It was not a question (or even a request), but an order.

Damian sighed (carefully avoiding a tt) and followed us.

I actually still had my pajamas on, which I didn't want to get dirty. After all, they were Batman, and I needed to show some respect. Consequently, the first moment Bruce turned his back, I pulled down the zipper and stripped down to my diaper. Leaving my sleeper on the patio, I took off running across the grass.

"Wheeeeee!"

Bruce was investigating a problem with the patio furniture, so he simply sent Damian after me. Damian, however, was not too keen to chase me down. Which meant I was unsupervised when I found the mud puddle.

"Grayson!" Damian gaped when he came up and saw me sitting in a pool of mud, throwing little globs of it around and making myself a complete mess.

Since he called me by my last name, though, I completely ignored Damian. He paused for a moment, then tried again.

"Dick." A pause, then a barely audible groan. "Dickie!"

I looked up and beamed. "Dami! Pway, pway!"

Damian tentatively crept closer. When I estimated he was in range, I hurled a glob of mud at him.

Bingo! It hit him smack in the chest.

"GRAYSON!" he shouted, beyond annoyed. I just giggled at him.

"No one defeats the scion of the House of Wayne in a mud war!"

Mud war was right. Damian had relaxed considerably once he realized I was (obviously) no match for him. I mean, I was not quite three feet tall and probably weighed less than Bruce's cape. Of course, he was going to win.

Having been assured victory, Damian was content to cover me in mud from head to foot. In return, I splattered his clothes, face, and hair with mud. We were a sight, but it had been great. _I can't believe I'd forgotten how much fun mud was!_

Damian and I were getting along like gangbusters, making mud cakes, when Bruce loped up to us. "Oh my."

"Father, I found Grayson playing in the mud."

"I can see that, Damian."

"He invited me to play as well. I consented because I have read that mud is good for the skin. It helps to remove toxins from the body."

Bruce frowned, no doubt wondering if Damian had been reading a women's magazine. _Is it so wrong to borrow them from Steph in order to make gift shopping for our lady friends easier?_

"I think that might be a certain kind of mud, Damian. Not just any old variety from the backyard."

"Well, that distinction is immaterial now."

Bruce nodded. "True." Then he looked at me. "Dickie, did you have fun?"

"Pway!" I threw a glob of mud at Bruce. It was entirely unexpected and it hit his leg. He seemed shock I had actually been able to hit a target. In his momentary distraction, Damian flung a huge glob at Bruce's hair. It stuck.

And the fight was on for who would be the Wayne king of Mudville.

* * *

Bruce made short work of Damian. Within three minutes, he was as dirty as I.

Flush with victory, Bruce decided it was bath time. Picking me up, we headed to the patio. Alfred met us at the back door, and he nearly keeled over from a heart attack.

"You are not bringing those clothes inside this house."

"But Alfred, -."

"Muddy clothes off. Leave them there." He randomly pointed to a corner of the patio. "I shall draw a bath in the downstairs tub for the young sirs."

Bruce and Damian stripped to their not-very muddy boxers. Bruce took off my diaper and then carried me straight to the bathtub. Alfred had graciously drawn us a bubble bath.

"Bubbles!" I cried joyously and pointed.

"That's right, Dickie. Bubbles." Bruce eased me into the water. "Now let's get you cleaned up."

Damian came in a moment later, as Bruce was rubbing the initial layer of grit off me. "Hop in."

Damian drew back. "I am not sharing a tub."

"Oh come on, Damian. It's big enough and you're both c-." Bruce paused. "Young," he corrected. "Besides, you can play with Dick's toys."

Bruce pulled a bag of toys out from under the sink and dropped them into the bathtub. I hadn't seen these toys in years – since I was Damian's age!

"Where did these come from?" Damian asked, curiously inspecting a boat.

"Dick had them when he was a kid," Bruce replied, shampooing my hair.

"Ducky, ducky," I stretched my hand out for a rubber ducky. Bruce passed it to me.

"Quack, quack," I said as the duck swam around the tub. I was pleased to note that Damian was enjoying my old boats, even though he was pretending not to.

At that moment Tim came in. "Bruce, I can take over here. Alfred says you need to shower. He's afraid you'll get mud in the house."

Before Bruce could respond, Damian shrieked, "No! I refuse to let Drake see me like this!"

Tim smirked. "What naked?"

"Boys," Bruce sighed, getting up. Damian huffed as Tim took over rinsing my hair and Bruce left.

"We will never speak of this again, Drake," he hissed.

Tim just chuckled. "Maybe you never will."

I could sense that Damian was getting angry and Tim was only too happy to egg him on. Fortuitously remembering that my favorite rubber ducky was also a squirt toy, I plunged it beneath the bubbles and squeezed. Once it was full, I pulled it out of the water and merrily squirted Tim in the face and chest, giggling the entire time.

"Hey!" Tim laughed, thankfully being a good sport as he held up his arms to shield his face.

Damian quickly caught on and pulled another squirt toy out of the sack. He began to squirt Tim as well, so I turned my fire onto Damian. Tim then grabbed a toy and started to return Damian's fire. However, it quickly degenerated into the three of us squirting wherever, which left the bathroom a complete mess. Even the toilet paper was soaked by the time Bruce returned from his shower.

He just sighed and picked me up and wrapped me in a warm, fluffy towel. "You two are cleaning this up – together," he announced, not even bothering to turn around.

* * *

Later that day, Bruce needed to retreat to his study to do some work. Therefore, he left me in the care of Tim and Jason, who were watching television in the entertainment room.

For a while, Tim played trucks with me (although I annoyed him by randomly sticking the trucks in my mouth from time to time).

Eventually, Tim found a pile of picture books and we sat on the couch and he read to me. It was great. I hadn't read those books in over fifteen years, and Tim was a good reader (although he could have done more silly voices). After about half an hour we had to stop because Jason kept yelling, "Quiet down! I'm watching something here."

No sooner had I taken a book from the stack and told Tim, "I read it," then Jason found _Pulp Fiction_ on one of the movie channels and insisted Tim watch it.

"It's a classic. Watch and learn, Replacement."

Surprisingly, Tim did as Jason asked and soon both were engrossed in the movie. I wasn't a huge _Pulp Fiction_ fan (a bit too dark for me), so it was easy to concentrate on my "reading."

I actually was reading the books Tim and I hadn't made it through, but I made sure to take my time about it and really stare at the pictures. In case anyone happened to be watching, I would often trace my fingers over the outlines of the pictures or randomly point at things and mutter to myself. I would also turn the books upside down and claim I was "reading." I felt pretty confident no one would catch on that my brain hadn't de-aged along with my body.

I was in the middle of my upside-down reading of _Where the Wild Things Are_, when Bruce came into the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him smile at my reading. But then he glanced up at the TV (where the movie was in an especially not-child-friendly scene) and had a fit.

"What are you watching?" Before either Tim or Jason could respond, Bruce dashed over to the TV and turned it off.

"Hey!" But Jason was cut short.

"There is a child in the room!" Bruce shouted. "I ask you two to watch him for a couple hours and you expose him to _that_." Bruce gestured at the now-blank TV. "That movie is barely appropriate for Tim, let alone Dick in that state." Despite us being crime fighters, Bruce had ridiculous ideas about movies. Yeah, you only had to be 17 to see an R-rated movie, but Bruce seemed to think we all needed to be 30.

"No child should see _Pulp Fiction_," Bruce finished with disgust.

"He wasn't paying attention anyway," Jason defended lamely.

But Tim was prepared with more logical arguments. "Bruce, Dick isn't actually a child. He just got de-aged, but he's really in his twenties. He'll be an adult in a month or so. It's not like he's really two. We weren't corrupting a child!"

"Yeah, that ship done sailed," Jason added.

Bruce glared at Jason, who held up his hands defensively. "Only kidding. Sheesh. And I was talking about fighting violent criminals anyway."

Bruce fixed Jason with a final glare and a quiet growl and turned to Tim.

"Nice try, Tim. That's good reasoning, but Dick could still get nightmares. And we have no idea how inappropriate material will affect his psyche and how that will affect him when he returns to normal."

"Seriously, Bruce?" Jason snorted. "That's beyond ridiculous."

"Yeah," Tim agreed. "Dick probably won't even remember this when he returns to normal. That's usually how it is. I hardly think he's going to be damaged for the rest of his life."

Bruce shook his head sadly. "Well, it's better to be safe than sorry. Now apologize."

"For what!?" Jason nearly shrieked.

"Subjecting Dick to inappropriate material."

"Are you serious?"

"Do I look serious?" Of course, he did. Bruce always looked serious.

Jason sighed. "Fine. Little Dickie, I'm sorry I showed you a bad movie."

I smiled at Jason. "S'okay, Jay. I wuv you." And I slid off the couch and ran over to him for a hug.

Jason did not seemed inclined to pick me up and hug back, but a glance from Bruce forced him to do otherwise. He picked me up, we hugged, and he put me back down before the hug had barely registered. _I really need to teach Jason to hug better_.

"Tim," Bruce prompted.

"I'm sorry you had to see that movie, Dickie."

I toddled up to Tim. "S'okay. I wuv Timmy."

Tim, thankfully, picked me up without any prompting and gave me a proper hug.

Bruce seemed satisfied. "Dickie, do you want to go play?"

"Yeeeaaaaa!"

* * *

That evening, we were watching the news in the entertainment room. Well, I was playing with my toys, Damian was listening to his iPod, Jason was napping on the couch, and Tim was surfing the internet on his laptop. But Bruce was watching the news.

Suddenly, Jason gave a theatrical sniff. "You guys smell something?"

I gulped.

Tim paused in his surfing and sniffed loudly. "Yeah, I do. It's kind of gross."

"Yeah, it smells like butt," Jason said. "Or," and he grinned a bit maliciously, "stinky over there needs a change."

"Bruce, Dick pooped himself," Jason announced, way too loudly for my taste.

Bruce turned away from the news and looked at me. "Dickie, do you need a new diaper?"

I nodded quietly. _Well, this is embarrassing_.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Bruce produced a new diaper, an old towel, and some baby wipes. "Come here, Dickie; let's get you changed."

I looked at Bruce. _Changed? Here in the middle of the living room? In front of my brothers?_

I didn't care how "old" I was – I did not want my brothers to see me with poop on my butt. No way. I needed to preserve some dignity.

So I took action. "No."

Bruce looked startled. "Come on. I'll be fast."

I shook my head. "No."

"Oh come on. Surely you don't want to stay in that smelly diaper."

_True, but…_ "No." I added a foot stomp this time.

Bruce frowned slightly. "Now, Dickie, we need to change your diaper. Come here."

I shook my head.

"One." _Bruce was counting_?

"No."

"Two."

I didn't move. Seriously, what was he going to do to me? And I had my dignity to maintain.

"Two-and-a-half." _Yep, Bruce had no plan of action for disobedience_.

"Two-and-three-quarters."

Before Bruce could count "two-and-seven-eighths," Alfred entered the room.

"Master Bruce, even a toddler deserves some privacy," he said with a sigh. Looking at me, he added, "Come, Master Dick, let's get you changed."

I looked curiously at him, and Alfred made a "come-with-me" hand gesture. I toddled over, and he took my upstairs.

After changing my diaper, Alfred sat me on the edge of the changing table and looked into my eyes. "Now then, Master Dick, everything is not what it seems, is it?"

"Whaa?" I asked.

"I saw you at breakfast. You knew the cereal was gone before Master Bruce told you in 'baby talk.' What is going on?"

I shrugged. "Na shure."

"Can you talk properly?"

"No. My mouf won co-whop, co-whop-er-."

"Co-operate," Alfred supplied.

"Ya." And that was annoying. My body didn't seem fully connected to my brain. After all, I would much rather use the toilet than diapers! But I just couldn't control it.

"But your mind is normal?"

I nodded, then tapped my head. "Big Dickie in here." I pointed to my chest. "Lil Dickie here."

Alfred smiled wryly. "This is certainly a new development. We haven't had this particular situation before."

"Nope."

"Well, Master Dick, I shall endeavor to help you preserve your dignity, at least as regards changing. You're on your own concerning clothing."

I grinned. "S'okay." _Really, I didn't mind wearing Lian's clothes. After all, I look good in all colors, even princess-pink and fairy-purple_.

Alfred looked thoughtful. "Besides, Master Bruce does seem to be enjoying this, doesn't he?"

"Ya." I nodded vigorously. Alfred and I shared a conspiratory smile.

"Well, then perhaps you can help me to keep Master Bruce from wearing himself ragged policing Gotham. Babies are a lot of work, you know."

I giggled. It didn't even take an adult mind to catch Alfred's drift. He wanted me to use my state of toddlerdom to keep Bruce out of harm's way. Make the man take a vacation, so to speak.

"And I assure you, Master Dick, that you have my full support – within reason, of course." _Guess this isn't the time to take Bruce bungee-jumping_.

"Dweal." I held out my pinkie.

Alfred looked confused until he remembered the ritual from my childhood (the first time around). He locked pinkies with me.

"Deal, Master Dick. I pinkie swear."

"Me too."

Alfred picked me up and started downstairs. He stopped outside the entertainment room door and set me on my feet. "Remember the task at hand," he whispered before walking off towards the kitchen and leaving me to distract Bruce from crime fighting.

* * *

I got my first big break at bedtime. Bruce, of course, was a tad negligent on that end, and didn't even start trying to herd me off to bed until after ten o'clock at night.

Even though my baby body was feeling tired, I was ready to put up a fight.

"Okay, Dickie, let's get you in your crib," Bruce said pleasantly after he had brushed my teeth and put on my pajamas.

"Nooooo, it ouchy!" I wailed.

Bruce patted my back soothingly. "Not anymore. We lined it with pillows and blankets. It will be cozy and warm."

"No." I squirmed in his arms, which caught Bruce off guard. He relaxed his hold just enough for me to jump.

"Dickie!" he shouted, horrified that I was about to hurt myself.

He needn't have worried. My acrobatics weren't up to snuff, but I could easily handle a drop from six measly feet. I landed on my feet (like a cat) and ran off, quickly dashing onto a high ledge. Bruce panicked when he saw me there.

"Dickie, get back! Get back! You'll kill yourself!"

"No," I pouted.

"Come back from there, please?"

"No."

"ALFRED!"

But it was Tim who showed up at the top of the stairs. "Alfred's busy, Bruce, so he sent me. What's up?"

Bruce pointed at me. "He's going to kill himself."

Tim looked concerned but still managed to roll his eyes. "Bruce, he's an acrobat."

"Not when he was two!"

"I bet he was." Tim sighed and turned to me. "Come on, Dickie, come back."

I shook my head. "No."

Tim tried pleading with me, but I was immoveable. Finally, Tim asked Bruce what was wrong.

"He won't sleep in his crib. He says it hurts."

"Did you put pillows in it?"

"Yes, but he refuses to sleep there."

Tim shrugged. "Maybe he wants to sleep in a big bed."

Understanding dawned on Bruce's face. He crept over to me. "Dickie, do you want to sleep in a big-boy bed?"

"No."

Bruce sighed and gave Tim a look that said, "see what I have to put up with."

Tim shrugged. "Ask him what he wants to do, maybe."

"Anything's worth a shot. Dickie, where do you want to sleep?"

I grinned broadly and pointed at Bruce. "Sweep wif you!"

"With me?" Bruce seemed a tad surprised.

I nodded. "Yea, wif you."

"Well, okay. Come on."

I crawled back into Bruce's arms. True to his word, he carried me into his bedroom. Tim followed. Bruce made a cocoon of pillows, and then placed me inside of them. _I guess he's worried I'll roll off the bed_.

"Okay, Dickie. Good night."

"No! Stowy!"

Very obligingly, Bruce told me the story of the "Three Little Pigs." Then he gave me a hug and kiss.

As he started to slide off the bed, I began to wail. "Nooo, you sweep too!"

"What?" Bruce asked, surprised.

"You sweep! Sweep wif me!"

"Right now?" Bruce glanced at Tim, who looked perplexed.

"Sweep! Sweep!" I demanded, pounding my little fist on a nearby pillow.

"Dickie, it's too ear-."

"It's almost 11:30," Tim offered.

"Really?"

"Yeah, time flies when dealing with toddlers."

Bruce shot Tim a look, then turned to me. "Okay, Dickie, let daddy get some pajamas on."

"You're going to sleep now?" Tim was incredulous.

"It is getting late," Bruce lamely offered. "And besides, it's making Dickie so happy."

He was right about that. I was grinning like an idiot and clapping my hands for joy.

Tim frowned. "You're spoiling him, Bruce. He's going to be a brat."

Bruce smirked. "I don't believe I have to worry about that, Timothy. As you so eloquently pointed out this morning, Dick is already an adult. If I spoil him now, he won't grow up to be a brat because he's already grown up."

"But, the movie -."

"This is different," Bruce said and steered Tim out of his room without another word.

Minutes later, he was in bed beside me in the dark, quiet room.

"Good night, Dickie." He kissed my forehead.

"Nigh, night daddy." And with a small smile of victory on my face, I drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce and I were in his study doing our best imitation of JFK and his son: Bruce was sitting at his desk, doing work, while I played with my dinosaurs under the desk.

"Rrrrrrr," I growled, dancing my Tyrannosaurus Rex up Bruce's leg. When Bruce didn't respond, I roared again and had the dinosaur nip at his kneecap.

Bruce flinched, but the pain was too miniscule to even register in the mind of the great Batman. Holding my T-rex in my teeth, I clambered up Bruce's leg, then gripped his shirt to pull myself into his lap. Once I was safely ensconced there, I shimmed the dinosaur up Bruce's shoulder, over his face, and then nipped his nose with the rex's open jaws.

"Ow. Dick," Bruce said tiredly, pulling the dinosaur off his nose.

I giggled. "Om-nom-nom," I munched, twisting the dinosaur before his face. "You yummy," I said in my best dinosaur voice.

Bruce gave me a small smile. "Dinosaurs don't eat people, Dickie." He ruffled my hair.

"Dey eat you."

"Why me?"

"Cause you, Batman," I beamed. "You spe-cel."

"No, you're special."

"No, you!" I poked him with my dinosaur.

"No, you." Bruce started to tickle me.

I collapsed in a fit of laughter, and went slack across Bruce's lap. I dropped my dinosaur, and shrieked with laughter. Bruce mercilessly tickled me until I nearly ran out of breath. Satisfied with himself, Bruce went back to checking his e-mails while I recovered.

Just as I was sitting back up, one of Bruce's e-mails began to play music. Recognizing the tune, I turned to the screen to see it was filled with images of Mickey Mouse.

"Mi-ey Mouse! Mi-ey Mouse!" I pointed and shouted.

Before Bruce could respond, the study door opened and Jason poked his head in.

"What's going on in here?" he asked in a mock authoritative tone.

"Mi-ey Mouse! Mi-ey Mouse!" I repeated, thrusting my finger towards the computer.

Intrigued, Jason came over to the desk and looked, uninvited, at Bruce's computer screen.

"Disney World?" he asked.

Bruce muted the computer, sighed, and leaned back in his chair. "Yes, apparently Lucius has scheduled an important business meeting at Disney World. It seems the other CEOs want to take their children and or grandchildren."

"Dude. Let's go."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at Jason. "I thought you hated Disney World that last time we were there."

Jason shrugged. "That was last time. This is this time."

Bruce was not convinced. "And the difference is?"

Jason picked me up off Bruce's lap, and situated me on his right hip. "This little guy right here."

"Dick?"

"Me?" I grinned up at Jason, who indulgently tousled my hair.

"Yeah, Dick. He's a total babe magnet. Of course, last time he was attracting the ladies for himself. This time he's going to help big bro Jason get the girls."

"I beg your pardon?" Bruce was skeptical to say the least.

"Bruce, seriously? Have you seen chicks and babies? They gravitate towards each other like bears to honey. The ladies are going to love this munchkin. They'll be flocking to his cuteness. And then I'll come swooping in, all caring and nurturing, and they will love me, too."

"That would require you to be caring and nurturing, Jason."

Jason dismissed Bruce's objections with a casual wave. "A man can pretend to be anything when hot babes are on the line."

Bruce frowned. Jason turned to me, all smiles, and chucked me under the chin. "You're gonna reel the ladies in for me, aren't you Dickie-bird?" he cooed (seriously! He really did!). "Yes, you are. Yes, you are."

I can't say I entirely approved of Jason's plans, but I figured there would be plenty of time to ruin it later. In my mind I planned all manner of tantrums, accidents, and general terrible-two-ness, which should safely scare away any lady Jason would flirt with. But on the outside, I giggled and clapped my hands like any toddler would.

I squirmed in Jason's arms, so he put me down. I then proceeded to run around the study, shrieking "Mouse! Mouse! Mouse! Mouse!" while Jason and Bruce … tried to do something.

As intended, my shouts attracted Tim and Damian, who came running to the study, each trying to push the other out of the way.

Tim managed to enter first. "Ha! In your face!" he taunted Damian, which earned him a "can't-you-be-more-mature" look from Bruce. Damian sneered smugly at Tim, as he walked towards the desk.

Poor Timmy. To make up for his hollow victory in the race against Damian, I ran up to him and wrapped myself around his leg. "Timmy, Timmy, Timmy!" I chanted, jumping up and down.

"Come here, you," Tim said and obligingly picked me up. Damian cast him the stink-eye and it was Tim's turn to smile smugly. At least it was a tie now.

"Why all the commotion, Father?" Damian asked.

"We're going to Disney World!" Jason announced, strangely joyous.

"Really?" Damian did a rather poor job of disguising the excitement that crept into his voice.

Meanwhile, I had been messing with Tim's hair. As he tried to avoid my fast little fingers, he asked, "Umm, how … are we … gah! … going …Dick! … to do that?"

"Uh, get on our plane and go," Jason stated, "duh" dripping from his tone.

"With Dick like this?" Tim squawked as I tugged at a handful of his hair.

"He's right," Bruce replied, steepling his hands and leaning back in his chair like the hot-shot corporate exec he was. "How can we explain Dick being like that?"

Disappointment hung in the air. "No mouse?" I whimpered.

Tim smoothed back my hair. "Dickie, we can't risk -."

I cut him off by promptly bursting into tears. (Seriously, if I was stuck as a toddler, I'd rather be stuck as a toddler at Disney World than trapped in Wayne Manor for months). "But me wanna see Mooooooooo-use!" I sobbed.

"Oh, geez, make him stop," Jason hissed at no one in particular.

"Bruce, do something." Tim handed me to Bruce, who accepted my wailing form with reluctance.

"Now Dickie, you can have fun here," Bruce soothed, but I was having none of that.

"Pweeze mouse? I be goo! I be a goo, goo boy." I hiccuped, sniffled, and tried to hold back my tears. I looked at Bruce with my most pathetic puppy-dog eyes, which my small size no doubt accentuated. "Pweeeze?"

Bruce hesitated for a fraction of a second. I could see he was trying to steel his nerves, but I was faster. I reached over and grabbed his finger, holding it tight. With a pathetic sniffle and more puppy-dog eyes, I added, "Pweeze, daddy?"

His resolve crumbled instantly, as I knew it would. "Okay," he said.

"Yeea!" I threw my hands in the air and hugged Bruce as tightly as I could. "I wuv you."

He kissed the top of my head (_the old softy_). "So? How are we going to manage this?"

"Dick's some long-lost cousin's kid?" Jason suggested.

"That would never work," Damian spat. "Father has no other relatives and that would not explain Grayson's absence."

"We have to explain Dick's absence somehow." Bruce pointed out the obvious.

"Well, what if we took along a few other people and said it was a trip for us and underprivileged children from Gotham?" Tim supplied. "We could pretend little Dickie there is some anonymous kid who won a contest."

"And real Dick?" Jason queried.

Tim shrugged. "He's…." He waved his hand in the air. "Ill? Took other underprivileged kids camping? Busy? In Europe? Who knows."

Bruce nodded his head slightly, thinking on the possibility. "That could work."

"Yeah, I'm underprivileged," Jason piped up.

Tim gave him a look.

"Well, maybe not now, but I was," Jason defended.

"Technically, Todd, you're dead."

"That's right! That makes me way underprivileged. So you can give me a fake name and I'll pretend Dick is my lil bro." Jason smiled at me, perched again on Bruce's lap. "And you'll help me get all the babes, right, Dickie?"

"Yeah!" I shouted happily. There was nothing wrong with giving Jason a little hope before I dashed it.

Bruce nodded. "Okay, that's permissible. Not great, but we can work it to our advantage. Who else can we take?"

"Colin," Damian immediately suggested.

"Excellent," Bruce agreed. After all, Colin lived in an orphanage. That was pretty underprivileged.

"What about your girlfriend, Replacement?" Jason half-asked, half-sneered.

"Stephanie? Her mom's a doctor!"

"Well, she's less privileged than us," Jason helpfully supplied.

"If that's your standard, Bruce will owe everyone aside from Lex Luthor a trip to Disney World!"

"No, Stephanie is a good choice," Bruce interrupted. "She knows our family and her father was a criminal."

Tim groaned. "Don't remind her."

"With a criminal for a father, I doubt she ever made it to Disney World. She's an acceptable candidate," Damian stated.

Jason elbowed him. "So you do have a crush on Timmy's leftovers."

"Todd!"

"Enough," Bruce said lazily. "We've got Colin and Stephanie. How about Cassandra?"

"Umm, you adopted her," Jason reminded Bruce. "So she isn't exactly underprivileged."

"He adopted you, and you keep saying you're underprivileged!" Tim retorted.

"That's because I'm dead."

Bruce sighed at their antics. "No, Cassandra's going. She's been in Hong Kong for a long time, and most people forget I adopted her anyway. She can pretend to be someone else if necessary."

"Umm, okay," Tim said. It wasn't that he opposed Cass coming, it would just be a little weird if she were pretending to be someone else. But if Bruce had that idea in his head …

"And Barbara will be your chaperone," Bruce said decisively.

"Barbara?" Jason gasped. "Why not me?"

"For starters, you are pretending to be someone other than Jason Todd. Two, it will look more legitimate if I send a chaperone who is a non-relative. And three, you absolutely require a chaperone."

Jason huffed and crossed his arms, but no one protested. We couldn't honestly say we didn't need a chaperone. And I was delighted to think Barbara was coming along. If I played my cards right, she would hold me on her lap and I could snuggle against her warm, cozy chest….

* * *

**Is Steph's mom a doctor? I thought I read that somewhere. **


End file.
